


7 Years

by vanilla_kate



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 04:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6409009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanilla_kate/pseuds/vanilla_kate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adrien breaks a mirror.</p><p>The seven years of birthdays filled with bad luck, and the one year that isn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	7 Years

  1. When he’s seven years old (soon to be eight) and his legs aren’t quite long enough to fit into the jeans his mother just bought him for his birthday, he asks his father if he can go outside yet-



When can he go outside-

He wants to play outside-

But his father wags his finger at him, pretending to be stern. His arm is draped like a well-loved shawl across his mother’s shoulders until he reaches beside the couch to haul up a box that’s longer than it is tall. The box is wrapped in green paper - paper that reminds Adrien of Evergreen trees and emeralds hidden deep below the Earth’s crust.

He wonders if there’s a forest or even a bed of jewels on the other side of the lid, but when he casts aside the wrapping paper and tears apart the box, he realizes neither of those things matter because his father has given him _a weapon!_

Yes! After months of telling his father why being a pirate was Adrien’s only career option in life, he’d finally given him a sword!

And before Mr. Agreste can tell Adrien it’s only a fencing sword and not a real one, he is off, poking and prodding everything around the house. He battles an armchair for thirty minutes before single-handedly defeating the shower curtain.

He decides he needs a new opponent, and begins striking at himself in the mirror. He loves watching his own face in the reflection, and he decides the lighting must be different in the world on the other side of the looking glass.

And with one good jab, he’s shattered the full-length mirror in his mother’s bedroom.

 

No one has ever told him the consequences of breaking a mirror.

 

He panics, drops the sword, and goes crying to his father who helps him clean up the glass. He gets a small cut on the padding of his thumb.

His father wants to tell him it’s not a pirate sword, it’s for fencing in the real world, not in some Mirrorland.

 

Instead, he bites his tongue and remembers ignorance is bliss.

* * *

  1. When he’s nine years old and his legs haven’t grown an inch, Adrien takes his sword and the rest of his gear to his parents’ room to change. It’s his birthday, and as a present, he’s starting his professional lessons in an hour; he wants to make sure he looks the part.



(He also wants his father to know this is only a _minor_ setback in his plan to be a full-time pirate.)

While pulling different faces at himself in his mother’s new mirror, he hears muffled voices muttering maliciously over monetary matters. He doesn’t know why, but looking at his own ridiculous expressions suddenly doesn’t seem as appealing anymore.

He shifts the mesh mask over his face and pretends he’s a knight instead.

His father storms in the room, not expecting to find his son there in full uniform. Through the mesh, Adrien can see the red-rimmed eyes and panicky, violent shaking of his father’s fists. It’s the first time he’s seen this chaotic mixture of emotions held inside one human being, and Adrien can’t help but realize how small Mr. Agreste’s body is in comparison to his vehemence.

 

There are too many feelings and not enough man.

 

He takes his son to his fencing classes where Instructor Paul tries to get Adrien to stand in funny positions that make his ankles hurt. He feels like he’s walking on a tightrope, balancing his weight on the thinnest of cords.

It’s a good birthday, Adrien thinks, until Instructor Paul bends his left hand a little too far.

His wrist breaks in two places.

The Agrestes do not return to Instructor Paul’s studio.

* * *

  1. When he’s ten years old and his legs finally fit in the jeans his mother bought him two years prior, he asks his father if he can go to public school. Pleads turn into demands and Adrien leaves the conversation defeated, holding nothing but hollow promises and the loneliest of hearts. The organ is heavy in his chest and he wonders if other boys his age spend their time planning new excuses to go to the park.



 

“I left my backpack there.”

“Fencing classes are outside today.”

“Mother told me to meet her there so we can go grocery shopping.”

 

His lungs are lead and he wishes for once they would just fill up with air that wasn’t from this house. He wonders if he should start to keep tally marks on his bedroom wall of the days he’s been held prisoner like they do in movies.

His mother brushes his hair from his eyes and tells him he’s beautiful and wonderful and jocular and effulgent and zealous. He doesn’t understand a single thing she’s saying, but the words sound like warm milk and honey when they dribble from her lips.

He asks her if he can go to public school.

She doesn’t have the heart to tell him his future is already mapped out on the back of his father’s hand.

It’s the worst birthday yet.

* * *

  1. When he’s eleven years old and his legs are a little too long for the jeans his mother once bought him (though he still wears them on account of how much he loves them), he decides he wants to learn a new language. He likes to think it’s his own idea instead of the not-so-subtle hints on his father’s part.



_The downside:_ his father persuades him to attempt Mandarin Chinese, a language based entirely on symbols rather than individual letters.

 _The upside:_ it’s the most fun Adrien has had in a long, long time.

He locks himself in his room for hours on end, burying his nose in a book on the language his father picked up for him last minute for his birthday. He hears the front door shut louder than normal, marking the return of his parents from their night out. Muffled voices have graduated to loud, boisterous, unashamed arguing. There are words Adrien never wants to hear come from another human being’s mouth ever again. There are names called that he never even knew existed.

Suddenly, the symbols on the page are blinding him. Everything feels unfamiliar and messy, messy, _messy-_ It doesn’t stop at the Mandarin though: he’s forgotten every word he’s ever learned except for “you” because that is the only word his mother is screaming at his father. They are banshees and Adrien never would have moved into this house had he known it was haunted.

 

You!

You!

You!

 _You_ did this to us! _You_ ruined our family!

You!

You!

_You…_

 

It’s 2 a.m. and his father’s anger is bitter and cold and seething whereas his mother’s is sloppy and passionate. He tells her to _shut the hell up_ or she’ll wake the boy. She laughs and it’s the most chilling laughter Adrien has ever heard.

“That’s remarkable, I thought you’d forgotten you had a son.”

* * *

 

  1. When he’s twelve years old and the jeans his mother bought him a while back are folded and untouched in the back of his closet, he spends his days fiddling with his mother’s old piano. She’s gone more often than she isn’t, and there is a word tingling on the end of Adrien’s tongue that he doesn’t want to acknowledge.



 

_Affair._

 

He feels nauseous and traitorous for even thinking it, but the word blooms on his mind like an ugly cornflower. He wonders what the difference is between the white and black keys, but his mother is nowhere in sight to ask.

That night, his father finds him passed out on the instrument, his fingertips grazing the ivory keys. He wonders if he should wake the boy, send him off to bed where he belongs, but instead he drapes a quilt from the living room over his son’s shoulders. Mr. Agreste suddenly realizes how angelic the boy is - he’s caught in a strange in-between.

Not quite human and not quite a saint.

Had the boy not been born into a wealthy family, he would have still been rich: he had pearls in his mouth and gold on his scalp.

Mr. Agreste researches the wages of child models.

In the morning, Adrien wakes up. The quilt falls off his shoulder blades and pools behind him on the floor like a cape. He wonders when his mother wrapped it around him because surely his father would never do something like this.

He walks into the kitchen, expecting the morning birthday pancakes his mother makes every year. The ones with too many sprinkles.

 

The kitchen is empty.

* * *

  1. When he is thirteen years old and the jeans his mother bought him long ago have been lost to the multitude of boxes in the attic, he models a green fall sweater - a sweater that reminds Adrien of Evergreen trees and emeralds hidden deep below the Earth’s crust. He’s given up his dream of being a pirate.



He asks his father if he can take learning the piano seriously. He loves music. He loves, loves, _loves_ it. After years of shrouding himself in foreign languages and masked combat, he thinks he’s finally found himself.

But his father wags a finger at him, and rushes away with his cell phone sprouting from his ear like a disease.

That night at dinner, Adrien is silent. Not asking about the whereabouts of his absent mother is an unspoken rule in the Agreste household and he doesn’t intend on breaking it anytime soon. The porkchop on his plate is almost as cold as his father.

He eats halfheartedly and goes to bed.

In the morning, there’s a wrapped box on his bed. He assumes it’s from the new assistant Nathalie because it’s not a familiar wrapping paper.

Inside is a pen.

He thinks it’s a joke and laughs for a full five minutes, flipping over the box to search for a card. When he can’t find one, the laughter evolves into a single dry sob.

* * *

 

  1. When he’s fourteen and the jeans his mother bought him for his eighth birthday find their way into a second-hand charity shop, he takes a walk, telling his father he’s at fencing practice. Strolling through Paris in the summertime is dreamlike.



He looks at the sky and wonders how far away the clouds are, how far up one good gulp of air can take him.

Everything smells _so sweet._

And then suddenly, there’s a flash of tan and white and it blends in with the scenery so well, Adrien thinks he’s looking through a kaleidoscope for a moment. A man in a beige T-shirt and white trousers seamlessly pickpockets an elderly gentleman and then latches onto the purse of the woman beside him. When she notices what he’s trying to do, she makes a ruckus. He yanks the bag from her thin hands.

And he doesn’t know what it is - instinct or heightened reflexes - but in a single, adrenaline-induced moment, Adrien races after the man at breakneck speed. He hadn’t known he could be so fast. They wind around building and through alleyways like a cat and mouse in a Sunday morning cartoon special. In a fit of anguish, the boy leaps forward and hooks his fingers around the man’s ankles.

They tumble and cascade down a hillside toward the bustling streets below. The man makes yet another attempt for the purse, but Adrien slaps him (slaps him!) right across his mouth. The police are on the scene in a matter of moments and the purse returned to its rightful owner.

It isn’t until he’s home that he hears it:

 

“Jeez, don’t you have anything in this house besides Swiss?”

 

And the boy jumps so high, he’s amazed the crown of his head hasn’t broken the ceiling plaster. He calls out an unsure hello, and after a minute of silence comes the wisp of a small shadow, zipping toward him from the depths of his refrigerator.

 

“That was a pretty noble thing you did back there, kid. Can I make you an offer?”

* * *

  1. When he’s fifteen and he buys himself a pair of jeans with his very own money, his father lets him go to public school. You have never seen a more grateful boy.



In his class, there are so many beautiful, wonderful, jocular, effulgent, zealous people, he could cry. They are so _diverse._ They are so _new._ And he feels like a meandering puppy, blindly stumbling and fumbling through each subject with zero social interaction skills.

All his life, he’s wanted to go to school, and now he’s been thrown into the sea without a life vest.

Nino reminds him of a childhood he never experienced - tall and fun-loving to the point of exhaustion. They discuss music and movies and philosophy and sports and girls and their futures. There’s a girl with dark hair down to her waist and another with eyes like cerulean saucers who are always early to class. A boy with vibrant hair sketches in the back of the classroom with silent, ever-shifting eyes. A muscular boy and a girl with pink hair arm wrestle every morning like it’s a ritual. Two girls, a redhead and a blonde, circle him constantly like he's fresh meat. Another pair sit behind him, quiet and always smiling, especially the funny girl with dark pigtails.

 

Someone finally tells him what happens when you break a mirror.

 

He receives a scarf from his father for his birthday. Baby blue for his baby boy.

After several near-death moments with his partner in crime that afternoon, Adrien retires to his room, vowing to never attempt another birthday party.

He runs his fingers along the cloth of the scarf. Did his father really do this for him?

And he feels it before he sees it, an unnecessary stitch in the fabric. He unwraps the scarf from his neck and examines it closer only to find the curling cursive name sewn in:

 

_Marinette_

 

He draws it away from his face again. He doesn't know whether to feel disappointed or touched. Again, there are too many feelings and not enough man.

But his thoughts return to the girl always to his back, always an arm’s reach away. The girl whom had gone out of her way to create something for him, no matter how small.

Should he talk to her?

He should.

 

He wonders if he should tell her he found her name on his scarf.

  
In the end, he decides not to, and remembers ignorance is bliss.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you guys enjoyed this little thing! Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> I am still working on my other Miraculous story! I promise! School and work have really gotten busy lately, but I'll fight through it.


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